Catherine's Beast
by eleventhwarrior125
Summary: In which Catherine must face the prospect of living in a world without Vincent. Will write more chapters if you guys want. Rated T for now, but rating may change to M if prompted. ;)
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I decided to write something hella depressing after 1x12, in which Catherine must deal with the prospect of living in a world without Vincent in it. I must say that the characters, minus the whole Beast deal, have been dealing with their respective situations realistically and with maturity. This is an alternative ending to 'Cold Turkey'. **

As the shots rang through the chill of the night air, singing and twisting past their targets into trees and the frozen soil, Catherine and Vincent became separated. Try as he might to shield her from his enemies, she was having none of his 'knight in shining armor' shit today. Catherine seemed to have this perverse, indefatigable zeal for danger. Her senses were as sharp as a butcher's knife, her reflexes as fluid as before her injury.

The Muirfield men did not attack like soldiers, and instead were scattered about rather than fighting as a singular, cohesive unit. This did not make their bullets any less deadly, their training any less viable, nor their conviction any less than absolute. Their fear of the Beast was nearly tangible as it reared and thrashed like a caged lion. The Beast tore through them as if they were twigs trapped in the howling forces of a maelstrom, seemingly unstoppable.

It took all of thirty seconds for the men to realize that the Beast did in fact have a weakness: Catherine Chandler. It was if she were a planet and he the satellite, pulled by a gravitational force. He sheltered her from the rainstorm of bullets behind a felled tree before she roughly shoved him away from her, as he was throwing off her aim.

She moved from her position as their fire faltered from reloading, but they were simply faking the need to reload. The Muirfield men were nothing if not calculating. They resumed their onslaught, fingers squeezing triggers faster than Catherine's instincts to dive to the ground. Not a bullet touched her, for she was knocked out of the paths of the men's aim.

Catherine screamed in pain anyway. It was the Beast whose body was pummeled, ripped through, and torn. He didn't even howl or give a yell, as if he had resigned himself to die in place of her months beforehand. He sustained nine gunshots throughout his body before crumpling into a defeated heap on the ground beside her. His blood was splattered on her face, a sort of mockery of tribal face paint. The Muirfield people were silent for a moment before Catherine had risen from her position next to her dying beloved.

You see, Catherine's Beast did not have claws or super-strength or heightened senses. Her face did not transform into a ghoulish, gruesome mask as Vincent's did. Catherine's Beast was of no intelligent design, rather an embodiment of the pain and the rage she had pent up inside her, like a dormant, angry volcano ready to blow. Catherine was more terrifying than Vincent could ever dream to be: eyes cold with frigid anger, her beloved's blood dripping down her face, and her gun at the ready.

It took her about forty-five seconds to kill the Muirfield men, her face twisted into a snarl as she snapped the neck of the last man. Catherine returned to Vincent, sinking to her knees by him as his chest rose in stuttered, shallow breaths. His handsome, scarred face grimaced in pain as his strength ebbed from his limbs.

"Catherine," he slurred through the blood dribbling from his mouth. She clutched at him, grabbing his hand and holding it tightly as she stroked his hair from his face. Here lay a broken man, once so large and imposing now lying in a blood soaked hovel, seizing occasionally when another wave of pain wracked his frame.

"Shh, Vincent, you don't need to talk," she soothed. Tears fell helplessly as she surveyed the five bullet holes in his torso, the other four imbedded in his legs.

"Is the am-ambulance coming?" Vincent asked, his voice cracking under the weight of the pain which was smothering.

"Of course it is. It's on the way," She lied through her tears. No ambulance would ever get out here fast enough to save him. Not that he could have been saved anyway. His eyes were blank, unseeing, as he let out a cry of pain, resembling a sob. Tears of pain trickled down his face to join the pool of blood soaking the soil beneath him.

Catherine tried kissing away his tears, murmuring, "I love you," each time her lips touched his cheeks. She couldn't stop his pain from enveloping him, his pleas for it to end shattering her heart. She kissed his lips, feeling his twisted grimace of pain against her mouth. He returned what he could, his senses dull to anything other than the fires cackling and consuming him.

"I l-love you," he hiccupped, the fight inside of him draining out through his exit wounds.

"I love you so much, Vincent. I'll never forget you, okay? Never," Catherine said as the life drained from him. He didn't seem to hear her anymore, his eyes glazing over. She repeated it over and over, and began shaking him. Vincent's eyes saw nothing, his heart no longer singing the song of life to spread through his limbs.

Vincent Keller was dead. "Oh _God_," Catherine screamed, holding his limp form against his chest. "_Oh God please no." _She wailed, unabashed. There was nothing but the trees to hear her mourn her knight in shining armor. The leaves stirred a little, but life itself continued on without Vincent Keller. She buried her face in the hollow of his neck in a mockery of an embrace and cried until…

She awoke to the sound of her own cries tearing themselves from her throat, lying warm and safe in her own bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: All the reviews from y'all have broken through my writer's block! Here's Catherine's reaction to her terrifying dream, and the action she plans to take. Remember, at the end of 1x12, Vincent decided he'd chose Catherine regardless if Alex had accepted him or not, and Catherine was absolute in her standing that she would not be the second choice. Neither has yet said the magic words "I love you," to the other. **

Catherine woke with a start, the sound of her own cries ringing in her ears as she lay in her own bed. She immediately clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her terrified sobs, but Heather was already skittering out of her room down the hall.

"Cat! I thought someone was breaking in-," Heather saw the state her sister was in and rushed to her side. Though Heather was no replacement for a mother's comfort, she did give pretty damn good hugs. Catherine, so usually stoic and obstinate, dissolved into her sister's arms. Though she was not screaming as she had been in the nightmare, her throat became raw as she hiccupped into Heather's shoulder.

Heather had enough experience in the realm of brokenhearted girlfriends to know that what had given Catherine such a scare was no break-in.

"Shhh," she soothed, rubbing Cat's back like her mother had done when she was little, trying to provide some semblance of comfort. She would wait for Catherine to tell her what troubled her so on her own, as she patiently rode out the mini-breakdown like a swell on an ocean.

"I waited too long, Heather. I'm so stubborn, and _goddamnit _is he stubborn too," Catherine said with an undertone of irritation as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Waited for what, Cat?" Heather wasn't stupid: Catherine's new beau had been causing her all _kinds_ of woe, so much that she told her and Tess about it. He had her on a short leash, and he had the power to cause some damage to Catherine. Little did either Heather or Cat know, but Catherine's hold was even tighter over Vincent's heart.

"I love him, Heather. I don't love easily and you know that, but I've found it hard to deny myself the simple pleasure of loving and being loved for as long as I have. I-"she paused momentarily, both to gauge her sister's reaction and to search for the words she was looking for. "I can't go on knowing that I could have something more profound than what can be dredged from those trashy romance novels I can't stop reading. I can't move on with my life knowing that while each human being possesses the ability to choose an infinite amount of paths to stride upon, I've chosen the most mundane and predictable one!"

Heather studied her sister for a moment. "Sweetie, while your Princeton education seems to have provided you with a lot of wisdom, you haven't become very wise." Catherine made a face.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, dummy, that while you're in here griping about how much you love him, you _aren't _with him."

"What is it that you are suggesting?"

Heather _thwapped _her sister's arm affectionately. "Go get him."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Vincent had just gotten dressed before a rather awake Catherine strode into his loft and smacked him soundly on his scarred cheek, which is, ironically, the spot where she had cradled his face before his ex had strode into the picture. _I just reclaimed my face-touch. _

"Ow, shit, Catherine! What the hell is wrong with you?" Vincent demanded, rubbing his rather tender cheek where a rather ostentatious hand print was forming.

Catherine's eyes were flecked with hurt and fury. "That, you insufferable man, is what you get for making me feel like I had just been shot. _After I had just been shot_, I might add."

Vincent put his hands up in surrender. "Catherine, if you're just going to list the reasons why you're mad at me, I might as well apologize in advance."

She grabbed the loose material of his shirt and pinned him up against one of the exposed pillars in his bedroom and leveled her gaze with his. Vincent could have easily broken her hold on him, but he decided not to push his luck. "Listen to me. I don't want you to say you're sorry. I'm not mad at you because you had feelings for Alex, I'm _mad_ at you because I love you.

"And you-you absolutely arrogant idiot, you almost get yourself killed because you got reckless. You wanting your old life so fucking bad you were willing to give up living! You inconsiderate, narcissistic schmuck, you could have_ died_," she shook him. "I don't care if you want to gallivant off into the sunset with a whore from 7th Avenue, I just can't bear to watch you get yourself killed. Let's face it: I'm too in love with you to _handle _being your handler. God _damn_ it," she released him to wipe the tears from her eyes.

"Jesus, Catherine. What happened?" Vincent breathed.

"I held your hand," Catherine said, taking his hand just to cement herself there, "I held your hand, Vincent, but all you did was slip away. You were in so much pain, you could barely stop screaming to tell me you loved me. I screamed it back but you were _gone_, too far gone to hear me say it. We're supposed to save each other but I couldn't save you." Vincent had her in his arms, her face resting over his beating heart. "I couldn't save you," she murmured against his chest, fingers curling into the softness of his t-shirt.

"You _did _save me. You have always saved me," he pulled back just a bit to bring her eyes to his. "And I'm not saying that to bullshit you, or just to bring you some comfort. I am not invincible, Catherine, I'm not some superhero that always lives no matter what. I'd probably be lying in a ditch somewhere or locked in cryogenic storage by now if it weren't for you. Even when I was being an unbelievable ass to you, you still broke free of your 'cold turkey' mantra to save me and to save Alex.

"And I do, love you I mean. I love you so much it scares me sometimes. But nothing scares me more than the thought of losing you," his voice cracked as his eyes reddened with unshed tears, whereas hers flowed freely. "Do you hear me, Catherine? I love you. I can't compare it to any of Shakespeare's sonnets or any of Mozart's preludes. I love you with everything I have and I'm afraid I can't offer you anything else. I can't promise you the stars. I can only promise you my being."

A tear rolled unencumbered down the left side of his face, a tear which Catherine kissed away. Her lips left his cheek only to be descended upon by his. This kiss was not filled with lust, not want nor any type of sexual connotation. It was desperate, for both Catherine and Vincent had waited for longer than was normally necessary. Catherine couldn't hold him to her tight enough, because the last time she had kissed him like this, she could taste his life ebbing away in her nightmare.

The Beast was there as well, lying dormant underneath the surface like fish trapped underneath the ice of a frozen lake. Catherine loved the Beast as she did Vincent, for one could not be without the other, just as the Beast loved her.

When they surfaced, their foreheads rested together as they caught their breath. Vincent's gasps couldn't help but remind Catherine of her nightmare, in which Vincent's labored breathing had been laced with pain.

Almost as if he were reading her mind, he kissed her again. "I'm not going anywhere, remember?"

**AN: So I'll just leave that there for now. I could write another chapter, but it'll probably be posted in the M section because my mind wants to write smut. And if anyone out there has any prompts for any other fics, is looking for a BETA for a story already being written, or has an idea for co-authoring fic, just PM me! Thanks to y'all readin'!**


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